


Like any dad should be

by backfourteen



Category: Football RPF
Genre: English National Team, Friendship, Gen, Liverpool, Liverpool F.C., Manchester City, Milner is the new dad, a lot of good Liverpool feels, some sad Liverpool feels, squad love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:25:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backfourteen/pseuds/backfourteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows better than to feel lonely or alone when he watches the boys banter each other off the pitch – he knows all about the time it takes to really fit in at a club. </p><p>Or: How it took Liverpool Football Club almost no time to fall in love with James Milner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like any dad should be

**Author's Note:**

> James Milner. King of Penaltypool and of my heart. 
> 
> I think it's important to note that a majority of this piece was finished before today's match against Newcastle/before Milner had quite the shocker, so I won't lie - it was kind of difficult to complete. But we go on. Up the Reds, up James Milner's career with us.

After James’ first few days at training, Brendan keeps him behind to chat. The rest of the team races to the showers – it’s a hot day and everyone is stripped down to the least Brendan would let them wear. James watches them go, spots of red, black, white against fresh green pitch, sweat soaking their hair and running into their eyes. He knows better than to feel lonely or alone when he watches the boys banter each other off the pitch – he knows all about the time it takes to really fit in at a club. He is slightly irritated that he has to stay behind – his training kit is sopping – but he smiles politely at his new manager. 

“Everyone is really kind here. Thanks for this opportunity.”

Brendan stares at James eagerly and James thinks Brendan may be looking for a profound statement or for James to say he loves the club already, after a few sessions. But that’s not James. He wants to be here and his loyalty lies here now, but he’s maybe not as excitable as the other Liverpool boys. He is older now and more exhausted than excited by the transfer process. Only at his most introspective does he wonder if his agreeability and self-possession translates to fans as a lack of passion for his club. He does his work on the pitch and what happens and what he feels off the pitch is less important.

“You’ll be vice captain.”

James nods, not completely surprised. He knows Hendo from England duty and they’ve always been cordial, James has always liked him. He would be happy to work under him. He doesn't consider players with more seniority being upset by this - a new player coming in and making vice captain. He's never been good at reading if people are upset unless they say so. James himself is never upset unless he says so. 

“Good. I’d be happy to do it.”

“Anything the club can do for you? Anything I can do for you?”

James shakes his head no immediately, lifting a gentle palm to Brendan. 

“No, thank you. Everything’s sorted.”

“You’re already looking like a leader out there. Your work rate is such an example for the boys. You’re going to be a big part of our revitalized squad.” 

If there’s anything James already knows about himself, it’s that he’s a hard worker. He smiles again, just as polite. He’s not afraid of expectations and not afraid of letting anyone down. 

“Looking forward to it, boss. If that’s all, I’d really like to shower –”

“Well, go on and shower, lad. Enjoy your evening. Don’t hesitate to ask anyone for help if you need it. We maintain a family here and you’re a part of that now.”

James lets Brendan walk him to the locker room with a friendly hand on his shoulder and the first thing James sees is Jordon, Nate, Joe, and Danny half-dressed, huddled around one phone. Danny holds his phone up in front of the four of them and scrolls enthusiastically. 

“Who writes these? Absolute legend.”

Danny asks, and they all laugh until James greets them. They go white as sheets, falling over each other to get back to their lockers and resume dressing. James looks on as Joe slips on the tile and nearly collapses on top of Nate, while Danny and Jordon sneak glances at James to check if he is still looking at them. He is.

“Alright, you lot?”

James asks with a confused smile and Nate shoves Joe off him, looking up at James apologetically. 

“We were just –”

“Shut up, Nate, you tit.”

Jordon shushes him and Danny closes his locker, slinging his bag over his shoulder and holding his phone out reluctantly to James as the other three boys sigh and turn away in embarrassment. James laughs aloud and the boys perk up, turning around and slowly joining in on his laughter, glancing at each other incredulously.

“You think I would be mad you were having a laugh at this? If I got mad every time someone brought up the ‘boring James Milner’ Twitter. Jesus. I’d always be mad.” 

Before James can finish his sentence, the boys crowd him and launch into frantic inquiries, backing James excitedly into his locker. 

_Do you really do those things? Who runs that account? Is that true? You're that boring? What was City like? Kun fucking Agüero, right. Are you and Harty best mates? What’s it like to win the league? Why’d you ask to come here rather than anywhere else? Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, soz. Obviously glad you’re here but. You play FIFA? What’s it like to play on the Lions first team?_ Nate elbows Joe with a _fuck off I’ve been called up you tosser, could just ask me._

James nods at them and waits for them to finish, trying to hide that he is definitely enjoying this. 

“Those tweets aren’t too far off, I am a bit boring. I’m a poor mate. And yes to the rest of it. Seems like anyone can play for England these days.”

And everyone laughs, Danny shoving Nate and Nate declaring that _James is having a laugh, this is amazing, James Milner, Milly!_ Like James teasing him is the best thing. 

They let him shower but continue talking to him while he’s washing off, their words blending together so James can't tell who is talking. _Leeds United. No wonder while you’re well hard, Mils. And fucking Newcastle. Dreadful as of late, like Aston Villa. Wow you’ve really made your rounds. Piss off, Jordon, you’re embarrassing yourself._

They let him walk to his car but the questions continue. _You just move here? Have you got a girlfriend, any kids? Are you mates with Stevie, Wazza, Lamps? You know Raheem? It’s like we just swapped the two of you, ow, you fucking daft, Danny? That hurt._

The five England internationals reach James’ car, the other four still bickering and grilling James, and James smiles despite himself, opening the car door and leaning on it. 

“Want to go out? Drinks on me. Drive you back here when we’re done.”

The four freeze.

“I don’t drink so it’s sorted. Will you come out?” There’s no edge to his voice, only something grown up, like an older sibling waiting on his younger counterparts. He watches, wondering if he’ll hate himself later, as Nate, Danny, Joe, and Jordon pile into the back of his car, Nate taking shotgun. 

_You’re not boring at all, are you Mils. I knew that Twitter account that was bullshite – okay I was the one who showed the lads – but only because it bangs. I know the best place round here. No you fucking don’t, we’re not going there again. Are you the one driving, then? Let Mils decide._

And James thinks, _This one will not be so bad._

 

 

“He’s sorta like our dad. Silent, hard man, boring, versatile midfielder, vice captain. Like any dad should be. We love him here and those mancs that let him leave can fucking…sorry, yeah, you can’t use that. I’ll start again. We love this grown lad. All the young English lads, we’re over the moon with playing with – okay, okay Moreno, Jesus. _All_ the young lads – England, Spanish, whatever you like, love playing with him. He never stops running round, not a really affectionate dad but that’s grand, innit. He’s a mate and a father and where do you find that? Not at Leeds. Not at Newcastle. Not at Villa. Certainly not at City. Okay, don’t use that either.” 

Rossiter spews out in front of camera, surrounded by the other young English members of the Liverpool squad, goaded on by Daniel, Adam, and Hendo, who are in stitches feeding Rossiter lines. Liverpool’s English players are filming a special for the website and they are asked to share how James is fitting into the team. And Moreno is there. Moreno is always there. Moreno buzzes around Klopp, who doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he smiles affectionately every time Moreno stumbles over the ball he is kicking about. 

“Sometimes he’s on the pitch, on his hands and knees, like. The man will do anything to win the ball. No one replaces Stevie in the midfield but we’ve got the man. Sexy, sexy James Milner.” 

Daniel says into the camera deadpan, and Adam and Hendo fall over each other in laughter. Morale is high following the win at Stamford Bridge and James gets lots of pats and exclamations of fondness when he joins the rest of the group. One of the clearly overwhelmed LFCTV representatives asks how James feels about the season. 

“I’ve got the most yellow cards in the league so far. So I'm feeling great.”

Everyone busts up as James faintly smiles, wrapping his arm around Adam’s shoulders only after Adam does it to him. 

“The boss wants heavy metal football. Just doing what he asks.”

Ultimately, James doesn’t understand why everyone thinks he is funny, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind that Rossiter's labeled him the dad of the team, either. He's played worse roles in a squad. 

As all the English boys gather to take a picture, he receives a rattling clap on the back from Klopp and gets pulled briefly aside, James wondering why managers always want to pull him aside and have serious chats when he's busy. 

"I will say, don't listen to anyone who says to you, you are not good enough for this team. That you don't fit here. You will be. You will fit. If I did not think you will, you would not be here anymore."

And Klopp lets out an incredible laugh, megawatt smile on full display, and James is unable to keep his straight, understanding face. James has found himself especially susceptible to Klopp's personality and attitude, perhaps because it is the exact opposite of his own. James relaxes under Klopp's hand on his arm. He's right, of course. Just because James is 29 and has experienced four different clubs doesn't automatically make him the glue or the cure-all for any midfield. James knows this and has only since Klopp came realized that it feels really good to be reminded that he will eventually fit. 

"Thanks, boss. We're really glad to have you here."

"But what about _you_? Are you glad I am here?"

Nate calls James over to the picture - they have left a spot open for him in the very middle, he notices - and James glances over and back at Klopp, who is smiling but James knows he is serious. 

"Brendan was class. Him and I got on. You're class. We get on. But I can get on with anyone. The rest of this team has changed for the better since you got here. On and off the pitch."

James thinks, _you don't have to worry about me_.

"I don't have to, but I always do worry about all of you. It matters to me." Klopp says, sending James off to the photo. 

 

 

James sees himself briefly in a mirror after the Newcastle away match and notices how windburnt his cheeks are. He presses them gently and winces, touching other parts of his face numbly to check if he's awake, if the match's events really transpired. He strips quickly - not a lot of words are shared in the locker room, or in the shower, or by Klopp. A sad acceptance dominates the mood of the squad rather than anger or frustration or devastation. It's a break in the amazing streak Liverpool have been on, a break that everyone has been quietly, secretly expecting and waiting on. And no one wants to open that conversation up, why there always has to be a secret expectation of failure at Liverpool. 

James showers longer than intended, and exiting, he sees Benteke still in the locker room, moving much slower than he usually does. James and Christian don't speak much off the pitch, but James knows they've both had shockers and feels an unfamiliar pull to check on him. _Don't be a dad,_ James thinks, but is distracted by and almost laughs aloud at the sheer height difference between himself and Christian as he approaches him. 

"You alright?"

Christian looks over and nods perfunctorily, a strained smile pulling at his lips as he bends down to slip his trainers on. 

"Don't listen to anyone who says you are not good enough for this team or that you don't fit here. It's one match."

Christian stops with one shoe on and stands up straight, nodding and smiling a little more. 

"The same to you, captain. Liverpool is a different place, no? Than your old teams. Very different."

And James nods. He _gets_ that. 

"I am glad I am not the only one. The pressure, it's -"

"Immense. But when we bang, we really bang, don't we."

Christian finishes packing up his things and pats James on the cheek, his large hand covering the entirety of the side of James' face. 

"You are a good captain."

As Christian leaves, James sits down and leans against the closest locker, looking up at the fluorescent lights and wondering how he is falling in love with this club, even on a cold, shocking Sunday morning at St. James'.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like each new player than transfers in deserves a fic that chronicles how the rest of the squad falls in love with them, and how they consequently fall in love with the squad. 
> 
> That video filmed in the fic sadly does not exist. (not yet at least)


End file.
